


Dig the Grave and Let Me Lie

by de_corporis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_corporis/pseuds/de_corporis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Anakin,” says Obi-Wan again, and slides one hand up to cradle Anakin’s cheek.  “I am so very proud of you.”</p><p>Obi-Wan welcomes Anakin home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dig the Grave and Let Me Lie

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty, I just needed to write *something,* and this is what came out. 
> 
> Pretentious title is taken from Robert Louis Stevenson's Requiem.

When Anakin opens his eyes, he is kneeling on a dark plain surrounded by twilight.

His first, astounding realization is that he is free from pain. Pain has been a part of his existence for so long that the sudden lack of it leaves him reeling. Lord Sidious wanted to keep him alive, but he had never cared much for his apprentice’s comfort - the pain kept Vader’s mind trapped in the prison of his broken body, and away from the paths of serene contemplation that might have guided him back toward the Light. 

But Sidious is no longer his Lord, and he is no longer a Sith Apprentice. He cast both of them into the void and now only Anakin Skywalker is left, broken and flawed as he is.

He rises to his feet and lifts his hands before his eyes, staring at the smooth and unmarked flesh before running them across his face and through his hair. He almost moans in ecstasy. He’s all but forgotten what it feels like to exist in an unbroken body, and it’s _amazing_ : the fine strands of hair tickling his ears, the sweet air rushing over his lips and into his lungs, the flex of strong and healthy muscles. Even though he knows that this is not real on the physical plane, and that his last remaining pieces of flesh and bone have been either destroyed with the Death Star or burned by his son, the sensation of being whole is still an unexpected grace.

“In the Force, we are restored to our best selves. That is its gift to us.”

Obi-Wan’s voice strikes Anakin with the same force he felt when their lightsabers met in combat. He remembers Obi-Wan on the Death Star, cloaked in a Jedi’s serenity and utterly calm as Vader’s blade swung toward him, and Obi-Wan standing over him on Mustafar, face contorted as he cried out, _I loved you_. Obi-Wan, telling Anakin how proud he was of him before departing for Utapau. Ruffling Anakin’s hair after a training session, resting a warm hand on Anakin’s shoulder when he’d done particularly well, turning to him on Naboo with firelight playing over his features and saying, _You will be a Jedi, I promise you_. Anakin remembers all of this and trembles, torn between the overwhelming desire to see his Master, and the knowledge that he is not worthy.

“Anakin,” says Obi-Wan, and his voice is soft and sad. “Won’t you let me look at you?”

Anakin can’t hold back any longer. He whirls around and sees Obi-Wan, as young and strong as he was during the Clone Wars, one hand stretched out toward Anakin.

“Obi-Wan,” says Anakin, “Obi- _Wan_ ,” and he takes one step, then another, and then runs forward. He wants nothing more than to fling himself into his old Master’s arms and beg for comfort as though he were still that little boy who had been ripped from home so suddenly. But the shame of their last meeting - _your powers are weak, old man_ \- draws him up short, and Anakin stumbles to the ground with none of grace he used to take so much pride in. It’s fitting, he thinks, that he should grovel at Obi-Wan’s feet. He deserves to crawl in his Master’s shadow, having realized far too late that he was only a fraction of the Jedi that Obi-Wan was.

After a moment he feels gentle fingers combing through his hair, and he slowly lifts his head from where it’s pressed into the earth. Obi-Wan is kneeling next to him, his face full of so much compassion that it hurts to look at. Anakin shuts his eyes and tries to prostrate himself again, but Obi-Wan’s hands grasp his shoulders and force him upright. 

“Anakin,” says Obi-Wan again, and slides one hand up to cradle Anakin’s cheek. “I am so very proud of you.”

As a padawan, and even later as a Knight, Anakin had lived for Obi-Wan’s praise. He’d treasured each rare demonstration of it, keeping those hard-won words locked up in his memory to pore over whenever he grew frustrated and impatient. But hearing such words now, after all that he’s done, is more painful than gratifying. 

“No, Master,” he manages to say. “I have done nothing for you to be proud of. I’ve failed you, over and over again.”

“No?” asks Obi-Wan, arching one sardonic eyebrow. It’s a gesture Anakin remembers well. “You don’t believe destroying the Sith is a worthy accomplishment?”

Anakin shakes his head, pulling it away from Obi-Wan’s touch. “I would never have done it if wasn’t for Luke,” he says, and now the pain in his chest comes from a surge of pride and love. Luke has become the Jedi that he did not, wise and compassionate and strong with the Force. He is truly the heir to Obi-Wan’s legacy, and Padmé’s son.

“He is your son as well,” says Obi-Wan, with that uncanny knack he has of answering a thought. “And many of his finest qualities are the ones he shares with you.” Obi-Wan sighs, soft and mournful. “It is my regret, Anakin, that when you became my padawan, I was far too young and inexperienced to be your Master. Training someone like yourself was a task for a greater Jedi than I.”

“ _No_.” Anakin reaches out and grasps the fabric of Obi-Wan’s robe in his hands, holding tight. “Never. I could not have asked for a finer Master than you. It was… it was I who was unworthy.”

“Something that we will perhaps never agree on,” says Obi-Wan dryly, “but I have no desire to spend all eternity arguing about it. For now, just listen to your old Master. Luke helped you out of the darkness, but he could not destroy the Emperor. Only Anakin Skywalker could manage that. And I am very, very proud of you.” 

And Anakin has no more words. Instead he closes his eyes and leans forward, tucking his head into the hollow of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. After a moment he feels his Master’s arms come around him, as solid and reassuring as they’d been when he was a child, and Anakin feels something inside of him ease.

The Force swirls around them, infinite and all-encompassing. He has finally come home.


End file.
